Prank Calling Lassie
by Unidentified Pineapples
Summary: Shawn and Gus decide to prank call Lassiter, but with a twist. Based on the Psych webisode "Calling Lassie". My first Psych fic.
1. Of Eloise and Ichabod

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych. Grrr!! Nor do I own The Writer's Toolbox. Okay, well I don't own the **_**rights**_** to it, but I do **_**own**_** one. It totally comes in handy for a story like this!**

**Author's Note: I got the idea to do this story after watching the Psych webisode "Calling Lassie". (If you haven't seen it, go to the Psych website and watch it. It's hysterical!). Enjoy!**

INT. Psych Office. Day.

(GUS sits in chair as SHAWN enters from kitchen carrying a small box labeled "The Writer's Toolbox".)

SHAWN: Alright, Gus. It's time to kick the Prank Calling War up a notch!

GUS: What're you talking about, Shawn? You won the Prank Calling War. I thought we were done with that.

SHAWN: _Au contraire _my cocoa colored friend! We have only just begun.

(SHAWN sits in chair and opens The Writer's Toolbox)

SHAWN (con't): _This_ is the answer to our every prayer, our ever wish, our ever whim… Whim?... Whimsical?… Whim?… Gus, which is it?

GUS: It's whim.

SHAWN: Egh, I've heard it both ways.

GUS: Just get on with it, _Shawn._

SHAWN: Calm down, Gus. No need to be a steamed artichoke… Now, where was I? Oh yes! The box.

(GUS rolls his eyes)

SHAWN: In this box contains the most ridiculous of statements, statements that we will use in our Prank Calling War. In order to win, you must pull a random statement from the box, work that statement into the conversation with Lassie, and keep him on the phone for the longest amount of time. If you fail to incorporate your statement, 30 seconds will be deducted from your time… So what do you say, Gus? Deal or no deal?

(GUS ignores SHAWN's last remark and eyes the box)

GUS Where did you get this from?

SHAWN: Barnes and Noble.

GUS: What were you doing at Barnes and Noble?

SHAWN: Picking up this.

(SHAWN holds up a book called _1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple_)

GUS: Sweet! Let me see that!

(GUS reaches for the book but SHAWN pulls it away)

SHAWN: Uh ah ah. Not so fast, Gus. The loser has to cook the winner whatever he wants from this book.

(GUS thinks this over for a second)

GUS: Deal.

SHAWN: Sweet.

(SHAWN grabs the phone)

SHAWN (con't): Shall you go first or shall I?

GUS: I got this.

(GUS takes phone from SHAWN. SHAWN smiles mischievously and holds out the open box for GUS. GUS closes his eyes and reaches in, pulling out a popsicle stick that says…)

GUS: _"Eloise was my half-sister, but everyone thought she was my cousin."_ What am I supposed to do with this, Shawn?!

SHAWN: That's up to you to figure out, buddy. Now get dialing.

(GUS gives SHAWN a dirty look but dials anyway. SHAWN looks at his watch and begins to time the call)

INT. SBPD. Day. Lassiter's Desk.

(LASSITER's phone begins to ring and he answers it)

LASSITER: Detective Lassiter.

(GUS disguises his voice as a high-pitched, girly voice)

GUS: Yes, hi. I would like to report a missing person.

(LASSITER becomes alert and quickly takes out a pen and paper)

LASSITER: Who is the person and what was your relationship to them?

(Cut back to: SHAWN and GUS)

GUS: Eloise was my half-sister, but everyone thought she was my cousin.

(GUS sticks his tongue out at SHAWN in victory for using his line in the conversation. SHAWN scoffs)

GUS (con't): Although I don't really understand why, because we hung out so much that we could really be considered friends. Well, best friends, actually. We did everything together, told each other everything. But, like I said, she was my half-sister.

LASSITER: And how long has Eloise been missing?

GUS: About an hour.

LASSITER: … An _hour_?

GUS: Well, fifty-five minutes, actually.

(LASSITER is annoyed. He doesn't have time to deal with someone like this)

LASSITER (con't): Hang on, Miss. Let me transfer you to someone who can help you in this _troubling_ matter.

(LASSITER presses a button on his phone, shaking his head in annoyance)

INT. SBPD. Day. McNABB's Desk.

(The phone rings and McNABB answers it)

McNABB: McNabb.

(Cut back to: SHAWN and GUS)

(GUS looks confused)

GUS: Buzz?

McNABB: Gus?

GUS: Buzz, just ignore this call, okay?

McNABB: …Alright.

(GUS hangs up the phone and looks at SHAWN)

GUS: Time.

SHAWN: 42 seconds.

(GUS smiles and hands SHAWN the phone)

GUS: Beat that!

(SHAWN closes his eyes and reaches into The Writer's Toolbox, pulling out a popsicle stick that says…)

SHAWN: _"Dad gave me a wink, like we were pals or something."_ Sweet!

(GUS does a double-take)

GUS: What? You got an idea already?!

SHAWN: You bet your shiny head I do.

(GUS slumps back into his chair, beginning to time the call. Shawn dials)

(Cut to: LASSITER's Desk)

(The phone rings and LASSITER answers)

LASSITER: Detective Lassiter.

(SHAWN speaks in deliberate slowness)

SHAWN: Hello, sir. My name is Ichabod Humperdink, and I am calling on behalf of your ears! Did you know that as you age, it gets harder and harder for you to hear everyday sounds, such as someone talking? Well, I have called to give you the chance to take a simple and _free_ auditory test, during which I will determine how old you are based on how well you can hear. The test, sir, is quite simple. Just listen to what I say and repeat it back. Ready?

LASSITER: Look, I don't want to participate in any test -

(Cut to: SHAWN and GUS)

SHAWN: Dad gave me a wink like we were pals or something… Now, repeat it back.

(Click. LASSITER hangs up)

(SHAWN looks at the phone, then back up at GUS)

SHAWN: Time.

GUS: 47 seconds.

(SHAWN smiles in triumph and tosses "1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple" in GUS's lap)

SHAWN: I would like the Pineapple Pudding, please.

GUS: Uh uh! No way, Shawn! I want a rematch!

SHAWN: Sorry, Gus, but I won fair and square. Pudding please.

(Gus looks as though he is going to hit Shawn but then thinks better of it)

GUS: Fine! But we're playing again tomorrow.

SHAWN: You bet!

Author's Note: So what did you think? Please review and let me know. Oh, and don't forget to go the Psych website and watch "Calling Lassie" if you haven't already seen it! It's awesome! Please review! Bye!


	2. Of Northern Lights and Burning Houses

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych. GRRR!!**

**Author's Note: Okay, so like 250 people read the first chapter of this. I was completely shocked! Thank you guys so much! Hopefully you like chapter two just as much! Enjoy!**

INT. Psych Office. Day

(GUS sits in chair with The Writer's Toolbox, _1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple_, and the phone laid out on the table in front of him)

(SHAWN enters, whistling. He stops when he sees GUS)

SHAWN: Whoa, Gus. Eager much?

GUS: I'm going to win this time, Shawn. And then you'll have to cook _me_ something from this book.

SHAWN: I don't know. That Pineapple Pudding was really quite delectable. I might have to beat you again so you can make some more. Oh, and this time, you should really make enough for two people. I noticed there wasn't any left over for you.

GUS: That's because you ate all four servings that the recipe provided for.

SHAWN: Hmm… I don't recall.

GUS: Whatever. Just sit down so we can start.

(SHAWN sits in chair)

SHAWN: Would you like to go first?

GUS: Nope. Uh uh. I went first last time. This time, I've got a strategy. The way I figure it, if you go first, I'll know what time I have to beat, and I can _always_ keep Lassiter on the phone for just a little longer.

(GUS smiles as though proud of himself)

SHAWN: Yeah, sure. Go with that, Gus.

(SHAWN reaches into the Box and pulls out a card that says…)

SHAWN (con't): "_A child with wings_".

(GUS laughs)

GUS: Yeah, good luck with that one, Shawn!

SHAWN: Piece of cake.

(SHAWN picks up the phone and dials while GUS times the call)

INT. SBPD. Day. Lassiter's Desk

(Phone rings on LASSITER's desk. He answers it)

LASSITER: Detective Carlton Lassiter.

SHAWN: Hello, sir. This is Thomas Alpert from the Child With Wings Foundation. I am calling to ask if you would care to make a donation to help fund out annual trip to Alaska. Any contribution would be much appreciated.

LASSITER: I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in making a donation.

SHAWN: Wait, sir. Perhaps if you were better informed on what the Child With Wings Foundation is… We help children with fatal illnesses - such as cancer and leukemia - have a more comfortable time on earth before they depart for Heaven. Every year we take an annual trip up to Alaska so that the kids can see the Aurora Borealis. We feel that the Northern Lights are quite spectacular, and we like to share this with the kids.

(LASSITER cuts SHAWN off)

LASSITER: Look, sir, you've called the Police Department, and the line you are currently on needs to stay open incase of actual emergencies. So, good-bye.

(LASSITER hangs up)

(Cut to: SHAWN and GUS)

(SHAWN hangs up)

SHAWN: Time.

GUS: That was cold, Shawn.

(SHAWN ignores him)

SHAWN: Time.

GUS: You fabricated a story about sick kids to win a game! That's low, even for you.

SHAWN: Time!

(GUS rolls his eyes and looks at his watch)

GUS: 53 seconds.

(SHAWN chuckles)

SHAWN: Beat that!

GUS: I got this.

(GUS reaches into the Box and pulls out a card that says…)

GUS (con't): _"A sidewalk with a crack." _Okay… Okay, I got this.

SHAWN: You sure, buddy?

GUS: I'm sure, _Shawn._ Now give me the phone.

(SHAWN goes to hand GUS the phone, but then pulls it back)

SHAWN: You didn't say "please".

(GUS gets annoyed)

GUS: I will kill you, Shawn.

(SHAWN hands him the phone)

SHAWN: That works too.

(GUS dials while SHAWN times the call)

(Cut to: LASSITER)

(Phone rings; LASSITER answers)

LASSITER: Detective Carlton Lassiter.

GUS: Detective Lassiter?

LASSITER: That's what I said.

GUS: This is Chief Rappaport from the Santa Barbara Fire Department.

(LASSITER listens more intently)

LASSITER: Yes?

GUS: I am calling to inform you that this morning at around 9 o'clock, you house caught fire and burned.

LASSITER: My house what?!

GUS: Burned, sir. Straight to the ground. At around 9 o'clock this morning. You live at 815 Oak Avenue, correct?

LASSITER: Yes.

GUS: The sidewalk in front of you house has a crack in it, correct?

LASSITER: Yes.

GUS: Then, yes, Detective, your house has unfortunately burned down.

(SHAWN looks flabbergasted throughout this whole ordeal)

GUS (con't): Now, from what we can tell, the fire was started from your coffee brewer. You probably left it on this morning without realizing it. You may not know this, but leaving a coffee brewer on in the morning is the most common cause of domestic fires. It is nothing to be ashamed of, sir.

(SHAWN looks up and smiles)

LASSITER: But I don't brew coffee in the morning.

(LASSITER ponders this for a second before becoming angry)

LASSITER (con't): …Spencer?! If that's you on the other end, mark my words, I _will_ find out and then -

(Cut to: SHAWN and GUS)

(GUS jumps in shock and hangs up)

GUS: Time.

(SHAWN grins)

SHAWN: 1 minute, 8 seconds.

GUS: Wooo!! Ha! In your face, Shawn! I told you I would win, and I did! What now!

(GUS tosses _1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple_ at SHAWN)

GUS: Now, I would just _love_ some Stuffed Pineapple.

SHAWN: Hold on there, Zippy. Calm down. First of all, you should know that Lassiter always has Buzz get him coffee in the morning, therefore he would have no need to brew any at home. Secondly, you failed to incorporate the correct statement.

GUS: What? I used the right statement! I asked him about the cracked sidewalk outside his house.

SHAWN: No. The correct line was _"A sidewalk with a crack_". You asked him if the sidewalk in front of his house has a crack in it. That's minus 30 seconds for you, which brings your time down to 38 seconds, which means _I_ win.

(SHAWN tosses the book back at GUS)

SHAWN (con't): Pineapple Upside-down Cake, please.

(GUS angrily takes the book and enters the kitchen in a huff)

(SHAWN chuckles and reclines back in his chair)

**Author's Note: So what did you think? Let me know by reviewing please!! Reviews are always appreciated. Oh, and don't forget to watch Psych tomorrow. Special Friday the 13****th**** episode!! I can't wait!! Please review!!! Bye!**


	3. Of Frenchmen and New Records

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych… or Shawn… or Gus… or Lassiter… Grrr!**

**Author's Note: I am really shocked by how many people are reading this fic. Thank you all so much for your support and the great reviews! Enjoy!**

INT. Psych Office. Day.

(GUS sits at table with The Writer's Toolbox, _1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple_, and telephone laid out in front of him. He keeps glancing at his watch and his leg shakes in anticipation. SHAWN enters)

GUS: Where've you been, Shawn? We were supposed to start ten minuets ago.

SHAWN: I was just talking to the Chief, and she says that Lassie informed her of our prank-calling nature. I told her I had no idea what she was talking about.

(GUS cuts him off)

GUS: You _lied_ to the Chief?!

SHAWN: Relax, Gus. She totally bought it.

GUS: She did?

SHAWN: Well, she did say that if she _does_ find out that we are prank-calling Lassie, then she won't give us any cases for 6 months. Which would mean that we wouldn't get _paid_ for 6 months, which would mean that we couldn't _eat_ for 6 months, which would mean -

(GUS cuts him off)

GUS: Uh, no. I have a job, Shawn. So I will be eating just fine, thank you.

SHAWN: Okay, then that means that _I_ would be hungry for 6 months, which means that I would bunk at _your _place and eat _your_ food for 6 months.

GUS: Uh, no. I will _not_ have that. You will _not_ stay at my place.

(GUS looks down despondently at items on table)

GUS (con't): So, does that mean no Prank Calling Wars for a while?

SHAWN: Gus, don't be a deranged hippopotamus. Of course we can still have the Prank Calling War! We just can't let Lassie know that it's us.

GUS: No way, Shawn. Uh, uh. If we get caught, then the Chief will have our heads!

(SHAWN sits in chair)

SHAWN: Yeah, maybe you're right.

GUS: Yes. I am.

SHAWN: Then I guess we can't have any of that delicious Stuffed Pineapple that you've been wanting.

(SHAWN holds up _1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple_ and tantalizingly flicks through the pages. GUS looks at him until he finally gives in)

GUS: Okay, let's do it! But I'm not going first.

(SHAWN smiles, puts down the book, reaches into the Box and pulls out a spinner. He flicks the spinner and it lands on…)

SHAWN: _"Frank, the painter"_. Nice.

(SHAWN picks up the phone and dials while GUS times the call)

INT. SBPD. Lassiter's Desk. Day.

(The phone on Lassiter's desk rings and Lassiter answers it)

LASSITER: Detective Carlton Lassiter.

(SHAWN assumes a fake French accent)

SHAWN: Yes, hello! I would like to know what the meaning of this monstrosity is!

LASSITER: What monstrosity?

SHAWN: You know full well what monstrosity! I was just sitting here in the park, minding my own business, painting a portrait of a fellow so that I could earn some money to feed myself and my wife. Then a few of your men come along and arrest the man of whom I am painting the picture. Now I am stuck here with a half-finished portrait and no money! What do you propose I do?! Go hungry again like I did yesterday?!

(LASSITER assumes his authoritative voice)

LASSITER: First of all, sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to calm down. Now, I am willing to help you here, but I can just as easily hang up this phone if you do not cooperate. Do you understand?

SHAWN: Quite plainly, monsieur.

LASSITER: Good.

(LASSITER takes out a pad of paper and a pen)

LASSITER(con't): Now, first I need your name.

SHAWN: I don't see how that is relevant. Monsieur Lassiter, the matter is quite simple. All you need do is go down to your precinct, find the man who was just arrested and demand he give me my money.

LASSITER: Look, sir. I am two seconds away from hanging up this phone and not thinking twice about it. So, I will say this one more time; give me your name.

SHAWN: Just put down: Frank the painter.

LASSITER(getting angry): Sir-

(SHAWN cuts him off)

SHAWN: Fine. Frank Devereaux.

(LASSITER writes down the name)

LASSITER: Now, how long ago was this man arrested?

SHAWN: About a half hour ago.

LASSITER: And where are you calling from?

SHAWN: The park. Look, monsieur, just go down to the precinct and get my money. It really isn't that diff-

(LASSITER gets fed up and hangs up the phone)

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(SHAWN hangs up the phone)

SHAWN: Time.

GUS(reluctantly): 1 minute, 15 seconds.

SHAWN: Hey, Gus, a new record!! Beat that!

(GUS looks concerned)

GUS: I don't know, Shawn. What if we get caught?

SHAWN: Well, we'll just have to see what happens. Our fate rests in _your_ hands, buddy. Good luck.

(GUS takes the spinner and flicks it. It lands on…)

GUS: _"Amanda, with amazing legs"_.

(SHAWN attempts to stifle his laughter)

GUS: It's not funny, _Shawn._ What the heck am I supposed to do with this?

SHAWN: Oh, come on, Gus. That's an easy one.

GUS: Whatever. Just give me the phone.

(SHAWN hands GUS the phone. GUS dials as SHAWN times the call)

Cut To: LASSITER'S Desk

(Phone rings and LASSITER answers)

LASSITER: Detective Carlton Lassiter.

(GUS panics and doesn't know what to say. The nervousness in his voice is clear)

GUS: …Lassiter?

LASSITER: Guster? What do you want?

GUS: I… uh… Oh, I'm sorry. I must've dialed the wrong number… I meant to call Shawn.

LASSITER: …Okay.

GUS: Alright, then. Bye.

(LASSITER looks confused and hangs up the phone)

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(GUS quickly hangs up the phone)

SHAWN (sarcastically): You handled that well.

GUS: Shut up, Shawn. I panicked. I didn't want to get caught!

SHAWN: Well, on the bright side, you also set a new record!

GUS: What?

SHAWN: Your call was 6 seconds long. And once you subtract the 30 seconds you lost when you didn't use your line, your time is -24 seconds. A new record!

GUS: I don't care. As long as the Chief still gives us cases and we can eat, I'm good.

SHAWN: That's the spirit. Oh, and speaking of food…

(SHAWN tosses _1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple_ at GUS)

SHAWN (con't): I'll have the Pineapple Shish kabobs, please.

GUS: Fine.

(GUS gets up to cook food and SHAWN reclines in his chair, grabs the remote, turns on the TV and smiles)

**Author's Note: Okay, I know some people are curious as to whether Gus will ever win, and the answer is yes. If all goes well, Gus should be winning in the next chapter. Keep an eye out for chapter four. Thanks again to all reviewers!! Bye-bye!**


	4. Of Falling Pineapples and VCRs

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych… or Shawn… or Gus… or Lassiter… or pineapples….**

**Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your kind reviews! You guys are awesome!! Enjoy!**

INT. Psych Office. Day

(GUS sits in chair watching TV. He picks up the remote and casually flicks through the channels. SHAWN enters and stares and GUS)

SHAWN: Hey, Gus! Buddy, what's going on? Why aren't you set up for the Prank-Calling War?

(GUS addresses SHAWN without looking up from the TV)

GUS: I'm not doing it anymore, Shawn. I quit.

SHAWN: Quit? Gus, you can't quit. You set a new record last time! No one quits after setting a record.

GUS: I don't care. Do you have any idea how paranoid I was that Lassiter was going to catch us? I don't know about you, but I _like_ having money to feed myself. I also like not having you as a guest-mate in my house.

(SHAWN rolls his eyes)

SHAWN: Oh, I see where this is going.

(GUS turns around to address SHAWN)

GUS: Do you remember what happened the last time you stayed at my place? You went out and bought 50 pineapples while I was at work and hid them all around the house!

(SHAWN stifles a laugh)

GUS (con't): It isn't funny, _Shawn_. Do you know what it's like to turn on your ceiling fan and have a giant fruit almost knock you unconscious?

SHAWN: Of course not--

(GUS cuts him off)

GUS: _No._ You don't. And I've still only found 48 out of the 50. I'm terrified to do anything in my own home anymore for fear of being killed by a missing pineapple!

SHAWN: Gus, relax. I put one in the glove compartment of your car, and I chopped up the other and crammed it into your VCR.

GUS: You what?!

SHAWN: Oh, come on! Who even _owns_ a VCR anymore? Really, Gus, I was doing you a favor.

GUS: That's it. I'm done, Shawn. You can have the Prank-Calling War by yourself for all I care.

(GUS turns back to the TV)

SHAWN: Fine. But it might please you to know that I was just down at the Station, and Lassiter doesn't suspect a thing. And the Chief even came up to me and said that she was wrong for jumping to conclusions and assuming it was us that was messing with Lassiter.

GUS: Really?

SHAWN: Yes. Now, come on! We've got a War to fight!

GUS: Okay, I'm in!

SHAWN: Sweet! And because you set a new record last time, Gus, you may go first.

(GUS feels slightly proud of himself)

GUS: I hear that.

(SHAWN retrieves the phone, The Writer's Toolbox, and _1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple_ from around the Psych office. GUS and SHAWN both sit down. GUS reaches into the Box and pulls out a popsicle stick that says…)

GUS: "_Tom lost 25 bucks at the races._"

SHAWN (annoyed): Oh, come on! Could you pick an _easier_ one?

(GUS laughs)

GUS: What's the matter? Jealous, Shawn?

SHAWN: Just dial the number.

(GUS dials as SHAWN times the call)

INT. SBPD. LASSITER's Desk. Day.

(The phone on LASSITER's desk rings and LASSITER answers it)

LASSITER: Detective Carlton Lassiter.

GUS: Yes, hello. I'm calling to report a theft.

LASSITER: A theft?

GUS: Yes, sir.

(LASSITER takes out a pad of paper and a pen)

LASSITER: Okay. What was stolen, and who was it stolen from?

GUS: My brother Tom lost 25 bucks at the races.

(LASSITER begins to write down the information, but then stops and rolls his eyes)

LASSITER: Look, sir, I am not responsible for your brother's bad gambling habits.

GUS: Detective Lassiter, you misunderstand. Before my brother could pay the bookie, someone snatched the money from his hands and took off. We tried to follow him, but the place was too crowded and he got away.

LASSITER: Do you have a description of the thief?

GUS: No.

LASSITER: Then I can't help you.

GUS: Can you transfer me to someone who can?

LASSITER: No. Listen to me, your brother's money is _gone_. Stuff like this happens all the time. Your brother is not the first and he certainly won't be the last. What's done is done. I can't help you. Good-bye.

GUS: Thank you. Good-bye.

(LASSITER hangs up)

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(GUS hangs up the phone)

GUS: Time.

SHAWN: 44 seconds.

GUS: Oh, sweet! Good luck beating that time, _Shawn._

SHAWN: Gus, do you forget that I hold the record for the Longest Call? I am about to _crush_ your pathetic score.

GUS: Yeah, we'll see.

(SHAWN reaches into the Box and pulls out a popsicle stick that says…)

SHAWN: _"You could make a living doing that kind of thing." I suppose I could, but I had never thought about it._ That's like an entire paragraph!

(GUS laughs)

GUS: Yeah, you're going to _crush_ my time alright.

SHAWN: Just give me the phone.

(SHAWN reaches over and takes the phone from GUS. SHAWN dials as GUS times the call)

Cut To: LASSITER's Desk

(The phone on LASSITER's desk rings and LASSITER answers it)

LASSITER: Detective Carlton Lassiter.

SHAWN: Hey, Lassie!

LASSITER: Spencer? What do you want?

SHAWN: I just wanted to ask you how much you like being a cop.

LASSITER: What are you--

(SHAWN cuts him off)

SHAWN: I mean, my dad always said, "You could make a living doing that kind of thing." I suppose I could, but I had never thought about it until then.

LASSITER: Spencer, what are you--

(SHAWN cuts him off again)

SHAWN: Ah, never mind. It was a stupid idea…. So, how's life?

(LASSITER gets fed up and hangs up the phone)

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(SHAWN hangs up the phone)

SHAWN: Time.

GUS: 33 seconds.

(SHAWN looks downtrodden while GUS lets out a cry of victory)

GUS (con't): Wooo! Yes! I finally won!! How does it feel _now_, Shawn?

SHAWN: You can hardly call that winning when I had to recite an entire _novel_ as my line. You just got lucky.

GUS: Whatever helps you sleep at night.

(GUS tosses _1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple_ into SHAWN's lap)

GUS (con't): I will have the Stuffed Pineapple, please!

(SHAWN contemplates something in his mind, then takes the book and goes into the kitchen. GUS reclines in his chair and turns on the TV. SHAWN addresses GUS from off-screen)

SHAWN (o.s.): Hey, Gus?

GUS: Yeah?

SHAWN (o.s.): I forgot to tell you, I lied about the Chief. Lassiter _totally_ suspects us of prank-calling him.

GUS: You what?!

SHAWN (o.s.): Yeah, we're gonna be in a lot of trouble tomorrow. Just thought I'd give you a heads-up.

(GUS looks furious for a second, but eventually calms himself down)

GUS: Just cook the pineapple, Shawn. Just cook the pineapple.

SHAWN (o.s.): You got it, buddy.

**Author's Note: So what did you think? Reviews are much appreciated! And when you review, please tell me who you would like to see win the next round of prank-calls and I'll make it happen. So who is it, Shawn or Gus? Please let me know!**


	5. Of Fightin' Words and Library Cards

**Disclaimer: Okay, so I don't own any of Psych. That right belongs to Mr. Steve Franks who is just AWESOME!!**

**Author's Note: Wow, it's been months since I've last posted a chapter, yet when I sign on to view my Story Traffic, Prank-Calling Lassie is still getting new readers all the time! You guys are just awesome! Thank you so much for sticking with this story. Now that summer is here, I should be able to write more chapters. And now, without further ado, I give you Chapter 5. Enjoy!!**

INT. Psych Office. Day.

(SHAWN walks into an empty Psych Office)

SHAWN: Okay, Gussy-boy. Are you ready --

(SHAWN stops speaking as he realizes that GUS is not there)

SHAWN (looking around the Office): Gus?… Gus…. Gus!…

(GUS enters the Psych building much to the surprise of SHAWN)

SHAWN (con't): Gus! Where've you been, buddy? You were supposed to be set up for the Prank Calling War. You know I can't do these things without you.

GUS: I was working some overtime at my _job_, Shawn. I _do_ have a job, you know. Not just this silly "psychic" stuff all the time.

SHAWN: Oh, Gus, that hurts. That hurts right _here_.

(SHAWN points at his throat)

SHAWN (con't): Right in the esophagus… Hey, if you have more than one esophagus, would they be called esophaguses or esophagi?

(GUS rolls his eyes)

GUS: No one has more than one esophagus, Shawn, so your question is irrelevant.

(SHAWN thinks about this for a second before saying…)

SHAWN: Egh, I've heard it both ways.

GUS: No, you haven't! You've never heard it said --

(GUS stops himself mid-sentence and takes a breath to calm himself down)

GUS (con't): You know what? No. I am _not_ going to stoop to your level. I am going to sit here and do my _work._

(GUS sits at desk and opens up his sample case. SHAWN watches for a few moments)

SHAWN: So, what, now you're abandoning the Prank Calling War? Gus, that is so unlike you to just give up on something.

GUS: I'm not giving up. I am making sure that the Police Department still wants to give us cases after we've just spent the past few days prank-calling their Head Detective.

SHAWN: Oh, Gus. Don't you understand that they can never stop giving us cases. That's the beauty of me being a psychic! There will _always_ be a case that they can't solve, and sooner or later they will have no choice but to call us in.

(GUS says nothing to this and continues to rummage through his sample case, ignoring SHAWN)

SHAWN (con't): So, come on, Gus. For old time's sake, lets call the Lass-man and make him all confused and whatnot. Hey, if we're lucky, maybe we can even give him another stress line on his forehead. I think I'll call it George. Come on, Gus. What do you say?

(GUS looks up hesitantly and with a smirk on his face)

GUS: Are you sure you still want to play? I mean after all, I did kick your ass last time.

SHAWN (mock shock): Mr. Guster, are those fightin' words I hear?

GUS: Well, you know. It's been known to happen.

(SHAWN and GUS both exchange a knowing glance and smile)

SHAWN: There's my best friend! Now help me set up.

(SHAWN and GUS quickly mill around the Psych Office getting everything ready. In no time, SHAWN and GUS are seated at the table with the phone, The Writer's Toolbox and _1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple_ laid out in front of them)

(SHAWN takes the box and presents it to GUS)

SHAWN: Gus, since you won last time, would you like to do the honors?

GUS: I know that's right.

(GUS reaches into the box and pulls out a card that says…)

GUS: _"Yesterday's _Wall Street Journal_"_.

SHAWN: Oooh, buddy, that's a tough one. You sure you can handle it?

(GUS smiles)

GUS: I got this, Shawn.

SHAWN: Alrighty.

(GUS takes phone and dials the number while SHAWN times the call)

INT. SBPD. Lassiter's Empty Desk. Day.

(The phone on Lassiter's desk rings several times before the answering machine kicks on)

MACHINE: You've reached Carlton Lassiter. I'm not here right now, so call back later.

(BEEP)

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(GUS looks at the phone, confused, before hanging up)

SHAWN: That's no way to win. You've gotta use your words, Gus. The more the better, I find.

(GUS ignores this)

GUS: He didn't answer. Do you think he's screening our calls now?

(SHAWN takes the phone from GUS)

SHAWN: Only one way to find out. Time the call, please.

(SHAWN dials the number. GUS looks confused but times the call anyway)

INT. Santa Barbara Public Library. Crime Scene. Day.

(The body of a male college student is sprawled on the floor. He is clearly dead. Lassiter and O'Hara are discussing the possible suspects as the librarian comes over and shushes both of them for being too loud. Lassiter means to say something to the obnoxious librarian but stops when his cell phone rings. He answer it in hushed tones)

LASSITER: Lassiter.

SHAWN: Lassie-pants! Hey, why aren't you answering your desk phone? Kinda rude, don't you think? I mean, I've known you for - what? - three years now? I'm just saying, it's really --

(LASSITER cuts him off)

LASSITER: Spencer, I'm busy. What the hell do you want?

SHAWN (whispering): Why are you whispering?

(LASSITER gets frustrated and starts to raise his voice)

LASSITER: Spencer, you have three seconds to --

LIBRARIAN: Shhh!!!

(LASSITER shoots her a look then resumes his conversation with SHAWN in hushed tones)

LASSITER: To tell me why you called, then I'm hanging up.

SHAWN: Take it easy, Lassie. I just called to tell you that I've been getting some weird vibes lately. I'm sensing - uh - books. Lots of books. And a card. Birthday? Greeting? Green? Credit? Library? Yes! That's it! It's a library! I'm sensing a library!

(LASSITER looks around)

LASSITER: Okay, where are you?

SHAWN: Psych office with Gus. He says "Hi," by the way…. But wait, there's more! I'm also sensing… yesterday's _Wall Street Journal._ But you know what? I think I'm picking up on Gus. Boy, oh boy, does he love the _Journal._

LASSITER: Spencer.

SHAWN: Right. And one last thing. I'm sensing a rich white man, in his 50s or 60s.

LASSITER (hesitantly): …There is a man who fits that description. He happens to be one of our lead suspects. He's a philanthropist who often donates money to the library.

SHAWN: It's him, Lassie. I can feel it.

LASSITER: Yes, well, we'll bring him in for interrogation and see what he can tell us.

SHAWN: Grill him, Lassie. Grill him hard.

(LASSITER hangs up)

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(SHAWN hangs up the phone)

SHAWN: Time.

GUS: You can't do that, Shawn! You can't just throw speculations around like that and hope that you're right. What if that guy is innocent?

SHAWN: He's not.

GUS: You don't know that. You've never even met the guy!

SHAWN: Come on, Gus. You know it's _always_ the rich white guy.

GUS: You stole that from Rush Hour.

SHAWN: Rush Hour 2, actually. Which makes me Chris Tucker.

GUS: No. It doesn't. Cos--

(Phone rings. SHAWN answers)

SHAWN: Hello?…. Lassie!!… Really?… Oh, _really?_ How about that. He confessed and everything.

(SHAWN looks at GUS in triumph. GUS scoffs)

SHAWN (con't): Well, thanks for calling me back, buddy. You know, we should hang out some time and--

(Click)

SHAWN (con't): Lassie?… Lassie??

(SHAWN hangs up)

SHAWN (con't): Well, what do you know? He walked right into the library and confessed everything. Just broke right then and there. Couldn't live with the guilt, I guess.

GUS: You got lucky, Shawn.

SHAWN: Please. That was an easy one. So, not only did I solve the case, but I worked your phrase into the conversation too! Talk about a double whammy! What was that? Three minutes?

GUS (reluctantly): 3 minutes, 11 seconds.

SHAWN: Woohoo!! New record!

GUS: Yeah, yeah.

SHAWN: Uh, oh. Sounds like someone is a sore loser.

GUS: I'm not a sore loser, _Shawn_.

SHAWN: Great! Then you won't mind making me some pineapple oatmeal.

(SHAWN hands GUS _1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple_)

GUS: Fine.

SHAWN: Thanks buddy!

GUS: Whatever.

**Author's Note: So, what did you guys think? What worked? What didn't work? I can't get better if you don't tell me what's not working. Please please please review!! Thanks so much, guys! Bye-bye!!**


	6. Of Misspelled Words and Potato Heads

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or The Writer's Toolbox. Sadly.**

**Hey, guys! Wow, it's been over a year since I posted the last chapter. And still I get reviews and subscriptions to this fic all the time. You have no idea how excited I get to see that people still love this fic. You guys are just the best! As I've said before, I consider Prank-Calling Lassie to be my baby. This is the fic that I'm probably the most proud of. I will never abandon it. I may go a year without posting, but rest assured, a new chapter is always in the works! Anyway, in honor of the Psych season 5 premiere tonight, I thought I'd post a new chapter. I hope you all like it! Enjoy!**

INT. Psych Office. Day.

(SHAWN enters the Psych Office to find GUS sitting at the table with the phone, _1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple_, and The Writer's Toolbox laid out in front of him. SHAWN stops in his tracks when he sees this.)

SHAWN: Whoa, Gus. What's all this, buddy?

(GUS looks confused for a moment)

GUS: I'm set up for the Prank-Calling War. What does it look like?

SHAWN: No, I mean it's just that yesterday after you made me that delicious, albeit scrumptious, Pineapple Oatmeal, you just kept going on and on about hating the Prank-Calling War and never playing again and losing our jobs. It was all very blasphemous, Gus. You should've heard yourself.

GUS: Yes, well, I got over it.

SHAWN: Go over it? Burton Guster never gets over anything.

GUS: That's not true, Shawn.

SHAWN: Oh, really? Here's an example…

(SHAWN clears his throat)

SHAWN (con't): Aggiornamento.

GUS: I'd've had that right, Shawn! I knew it wasn't O!

SHAWN: Case and point. So, tell me, Gus, why are you suddenly all Eager Beaver when it comes to the PCW?

GUS: PCW?

SHAWN: Prank-Calling War. Come on, Gus, try to keep up.

GUS: I got over it.

SHAWN: No, really, Gus.

GUS: No, really. I got over it. I figure it's only a matter of time before Lassiter catches on to us and the Chief stops giving us cases. So, I'm giving in. I'm going to enjoy it while I can, and I'm showing no mercy this time.

SHAWN: No mercy? Wow. Check you out, Mr. Bruton Gaster. I'm almost thinking about being slightly daunted by that threat.

GUS: You know my name, Shawn.

SHAWN: I'm sorry, what's that, Mr. Gaster? I couldn't hear you because I was going over how to properly spell aggiornamento in my head.

GUS: I will _kill_ you, Shawn. Now, are we going to play or not?

SHAWN: You got it, buddy!

(SHAWN sits at the table and holds out The Writer's Toolbox for GUS)

SHAWN: Gus, I insist you go first.

(GUS looks at SHAWN suspiciously)

GUS: Why?

SHAWN: Well, gee, Gus. Can't a guy do something nice for his friend?

GUS: Not you.

SHAWN: Fine. I'll go first then.

(SHAWN moves to reach into The Writer's Toolbox but GUS gets there first)

GUS: No, I got this.

(GUS reaches into The Writer's Toolbox and pulls out a spinner. He flicks the spinner and it lands on…)

GUS (con't): _"To be the strongest"_. Hmm… I think I can just about whup your ass with this one, Shawnie Boy.

SHAWN: Don't get too cocky yet, Mr. Potato Head. We'll let Lassie be the judge of that.

GUS: Mr. Potato Head?

SHAWN: Yes. Mr. Potato Head.

(SHAWN looks at GUS who doesn't respond)

SHAWN (con't): Oh, come on. Like you've never noticed the resemblance before. It's painfully obvious, Gus.

GUS: Whatever. Just give me the phone.

(SHAWN hands GUS the phone. GUS dials as SHAWN times the call.)

INT SBPD. Lassiter's Empty Desk. Day.

(The phone on LASSITER'S desk rings several times before the answering machine kicks on)

MACHINE: You've reached Head Detective Carlton Lassiter. I'm not here right now, so call back later.

(BEEP)

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(GUS looks at the phone and hangs up)

SHAWN: He's not there again?

GUS: I guess not.

(SHAWN reaches for the phone)

SHAWN: Here, I'll handle this.

GUS: Why would you ever think I would give you this phone?

SHAWN: Uh, so I can call Lassiter.

GUS: And sell me out like you did last time? Solve a case and set a new record? I don't think so. This is war, Shawn, and I'm gonna win!

SHAWN: Gus, I don't think I've ever seen this side of you before. Both figuratively and literally. You've got this weird bump thing on your nose that not only gives you a rugged, devil-may-care look, but also provides further evidence that you could be Mr. Potato Head's twin. It really is quite fascinating!

(GUS deadpans at SHAWN for a few moments)

GUS: Can we get on with this?

(SHAWN makes a go-right-ahead motion toward the phone)

GUS: Thank you.

(GUS dials while SHAWN times the call)

EXT. Santa Barbara Pier. Day.

(LASSITER casually looks out over the water while occasionally making quick glances to his right. Sitting on a bench a little ways down the pier is a suspicious looking character.)

(LASSITER'S cell phone rings. He answers it.)

LASSITER: Lassiter.

GUS: Lassiter, it's Gus.

LASSITER: Guster? Why are you calling me? I'm in the middle of something important.

GUS: Oh, really? Do tell.

LASSITER: Well, not that it's any of your concern, but for the past five weeks I've been tailing one of the biggest drug-dealers in Santa Barbara. He's been a slippery one, but I've finally got him right where I want him. I'm just waiting for one of his slimy clients to come along and buy some drugs from him, and then this creep is all mine. Oh, sweet lady justice.

GUS: That's nice.

LASSITER: It's actually a good thing you called, Guster. I'm sure I look a bit suspicious out here on the pier by myself, so you're actually doing me a favor by with this call. Gives me something to do, which in turn dials my suspiciousness down a notch or two.

GUS: Glad I could be of service to you, Lassiter.

LASSITER: Nah, the gratitude is all mine. So what did you call for?

GUS: Oh, right, well, I was actually calling for some advice.

LASSITER: Oh, really? Advice about what?

GUS: Well, you see, Shawn and I have been talking about having a little competition.

LASSITER: A competition? Of what?... Wait. Is that why I've been receiving all these weird phone calls lately?

GUS: I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. Maybe Shawn does, but I most certainly do _not_. Anyway, the purpose of this competition is to be the strongest. It's an arm wrestling competition, actually.

LASSITER (impressed): Arm wrestling? Really?

GUS: Yes, sir. And I've heard you've been the arm wrestling champion of the SBPD for, what is it? Seven years now?

LASSITER: Well, eight actually, but who's counting?

GUS: See, there you go. And I would be honored if you would coach me, Lassiter. I could use the practice, and I simply must beat Shawn.

LASSITER: You've got it, Guster. Why don't you swing by the station at around five tomorrow, and we can start training.

GUS: Sounds great. Thank you, sir. Much obliged.

LASSITER: Anytime, Guster.

GUS: Bye.

LASSITER: Good-bye.

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(GUS hangs up the phone and places it on the table)

SHAWN: Much obliged? What, are we in the Civil War era?

GUS: You'd better hope not.

SHAWN: No, Gus, I think in that instance, _you'd_ better hope not.

GUS: Whatever, Shawn. What was my time?

SHAWN (feigns alarm): Oh, my God! Will you look at that. I totally forgot to time the call, Gus. Im am _so_ sorry, buddy. I'll guess we'll just have to cancel this round.

GUS: I'm not an idiot, Shawn. I saw you push the buttons on the timer.

SHAWN: Are you sure you're not an idiot? I mean, you can't even spell aggiornamento.

GUS: Shawn!

SHAWN: Fine. Your time was 3 minutes and 29 seconds, happy?

GUS: Oh, hell yeah! A new record! What! Have fun beating _that_, Shawnie Boy.

SHAWN: Don't you worry about a thing, Gus. I've got this all under control. The Box, please.

(GUS hands SHAWN The Writer's Toolbox. SHAWN reaches in, pulls out a spinner, flicks it, and it lands on…)

SHAWN (con't): _"To find true love"_. Phssh. Could I get an easier one? This is going to be cake.

GUS: Yeah, we'll just see who's talking when you lose.

SHAWN: Oh, just hand me the phone.

(GUS hands SHAWN the phone. SHAWN dials the number as GUS times the call.)

Cut To: Lassiter

(LASSITER pulls out cell phone and answers it)

LASSITER: Spencer?

SHAWN: Hey, Lassie!

(We see a shifty looking guy approach LASSITER'S drug-dealer. LASSITER notices this too.)

LASSITER: Spencer, I have to call you back.

SHAWN (quickly): To find true love!

(LASSITER snaps his phone shut, pulls out his glock and runs toward the drug-dealer)

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(SHAWN looks at the phone, startled, before hanging up and putting the phone down.)

GUS: Seriously? Four seconds? That's it? That was pitiful.

SHAWN: Well, at least I used my phrase. My score isn't in the negatives like your score was that one time.

GUS: Still, that was horrendous.

SHAWN: I want a rematch.

GUS: Oh, you'll get a rematch, Shawn. Tomorrow. But not before I get some tasty Pineapples Foster.

(GUS tosses _1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple_ at SHAWN before reclining back in his chair, looking smug.)

SHAWN: You wait, Bruton Gaster. You just wait.

(SHAWN takes the book and enters the kitchen. We hear his voice from off-screen.)

SHAWN: (o.s. con't): Oh, and Gus, I don't know where you came up with that arm wrestling idea, but it is _so_ on!

GUS: Just cook the pineapple, Shawn.

**So, there you have it. I hope it was up to par. I wrote the first part of this a year ago and I finished the rest of it last night. Again, I hope it's okay. Anyway, I have something to ask of you guys. For a few years now, there's been talks of Psych doing a musical episode – yes, you heard right, a **_**musical**_** episode! All songs will be original to Psych. It was supposed to happen in season 5, but Steve Franks ran out of time, and so it is now scheduled for season 6. However, we all know that sometimes projects fall through. ANYWAY! I've started a Facebook group called "We Want A Psych Musical Episode!" and I would be "much obliged" if you guys would join. It's just a little way of raising support for the episode that' we've been promised, in the event that, for some reason, it does fall through. Okay, enough of my rambling. Review please, and please join the group. Bye-bye!**


	7. Of Foul Moods and Answering Machines

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or any of its wonderful characters. The right belongs to Mr. Steve Franks! And nor do I own The Writer's Toolbox.**

**Hey guys! So, in honor of the Summer Finale of Psych tonight, I thought I'd surprise you all with a new chapter of Prank-Calling Lassie. Hope you enjoy!**

INT. Psych Office. Day.

(SHAWN and GUS are busy setting up the table for the Prank-Calling War. However, every time GUS sets an object on the table, SHAWN places it on one of the chairs. When GUS places the objects back on the table, SHAWN puts another object on one of the chairs. This continues for a few moments until…)

GUS: Okay, _what_ are you doing?

SHAWN: What?

GUS: Stop moving things.

SHAWN: Uh, Gus, _you're _moving things too. I put something on the chair, you move it. I put something else on the chair, you move it. I put sometime _else_ on the chair –

(Gus cuts him off)

GUS: _Shawn._

SHAWN: Yes, buddy?

GUS: Why are you moving things?

SHAWN: I like them on the chairs, Gus. A little change of scenery wouldn't kill you.

(GUS gives SHAWN a quizzical look before realization dawns on his face)

GUS: …You're trying to mess with me, aren't you? Get under my skin or something so I'll lose.

SHAWN (mock offense): Gus, how _dare_ you. How could you possibly think I would stoop so low as to sabotage my best friend?

(GUS is unfazed and glares at SHAWN for a moment before saying…)

GUS: Pineapple dumplings.

SHAWN: Okay, Gus, seriously? You think a delicious morsel of a pineappley treat such as the delectable pineapple dumplings means more to me that our friendship? Mr. Guster, I am offended. I am offended by the very notion.

(Beat)

GUS: Wow. I didn't know you felt that way. I am genuinely sorry.

SHAWN: Yeah, well, you should be. I worked very hard yesterday on that pineapples foster, and now you won't even take time to show me the _respect_ –

(GUS cuts him off)

GUS: Okay, too much.

SHAWN: Yeah, you're right. Let's just get on with this, shall we?

(SHAWN and GUS collectively take all the objects off the chairs and place them on the table. They sit down, and before them are laid out the phone, The Writer's Toolbox, _1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple_, and a timer.)

GUS: But we gotta make this quick. I'm supposed to meet Lassiter at five so he can coach me in arm-wrestling.

SHAWN (disgusted): Oh, dude, you're not actually going through with that, are you?

GUS: It's either that or he finds out we've been prank-calling him, and then the Chief stops giving us cases.

SHAWN: Yeah, but at least tell him you're sick or something.

GUS: I will not lie, _Shawn_. I'm above that.

SHAWN: Fine, go meet with Lassiter. Touch his hands and get rabies or mange or whatever it is he's got going for him.

GUS: He's not a dog, Shawn.

SHAWN: Um, his name's _Lassie_.

(GUS makes as if to say something, thinks better of it and keeps his mouth closed)

GUS: Never mind. Can we just get on with this, please?

(GUS doesn't wait for an answer. He reaches into The Writer's Toolbox and pulls out a popsicle stick that says…)

GUS (cont'd): _"The time he caught a fly ball."_

SHAWN: Ouch. That one's gonna hurt you, buddy.

GUS: What? You don't think I can come up with something clever for this?

SHAWN: Well, I mean, face it.

(SHAWN slings an arm around GUS's shoulder)

SHAWN (cont'd): That phrase is really for professionals. And, well, you should probably just forfeit now.

(GUS pushes SHAWN's arm away)

GUS: Get your damn hands off me.

SHAWN: Oh, what, you'll touch Lassie's hands but not mine?

GUS: Okay, seriously. Can we get off the subject of Lassiter's hands?

SHAWN: Whatever you say, buddy. You gonna make the call or what?

GUS: I'm thinking.

SHAWN (confused): About?

GUS: About how to use the phrase.

SHAWN: Well, I would go with standard English, but if you want to mix it up and use Mandarin or Eskimo, I say go for it, my lopsided friend.

GUS (after a beat): Lopsided?

SHAWN: Yes. Lopsided.

GUS: What are you talking about?

SHAWN: Um, hello, Gus. Your head.

GUS: My head? My head is not lopsided. My head is perfectly spherical.

SHAWN (snorting): Yeah, you wish.

GUS: If anything, _your_ head is lopsided.

SHAWN: Oh, please. _This_ head? I beg to differ.

GUS: Beg all you want, but it's true.

SHAWN: Okay, will you stop stalling. You've either got an idea or you don't. Either way, make the call.

GUS: You bet your butt I've got an idea.

(GUS picks up the phone)

SHAWN: "Bet your butt"? Well, that's just foolish. Who ever came up with that phrase? Why would someone bet their own rumpus? How would they pay the bookie?

GUS: _Shawn._ Just time the call.

SHAWN: Right, buddy.

(As GUS dials the number, SHAWN times the call while subsequently checking the shape of his head in the reflection of the television screen)

INT. SBPD. Lassiter's Empty Desk. Day.

(The phone on Lassiter's desk rings until the answering machine kicks on)

MACHINE: You've reached Head Detective Carlton Lassiter. I'm not here right now because I'm out solving crime. Leave a message.

(BEEP)

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(GUS hangs up)

SHAWN: _Again?_ Is he never at the Station anymore?

GUS: Guess not.

SHAWN: Call his mobile.

(GUS deadpans at SHAWN)

SHAWN (cont'd): What?

GUS: Mobile? Really?

SHAWN: Yes.

GUS: We're not in Europe, _Shawn_. It's called a cellphone.

SHAWN: I've heard it both ways.

(Beat)

GUS: Just time the call.

SHAWN: I'm on it, buddy.

(GUS dials again)

INT. SBPD. Shooting Range. Days.

(LASSITER, with fierce intent, fires off a few bullets into his designated target. Upon feeling his cellphone vibrate in his pocket, he put down his Glock, pulls out his phone and answers it.)

LASSITER: Lassiter.

GUS (in a high-pitched female voice): Oh, hey, Louisa. It's Margret. You know, I was just thinking today about how fast our boys have grown up!

LASSITER: Um, ma'am.

GUS: I mean, now they're off in college. Where did the time go, right?

LASSITER: Ma'am.

GUS: And tell Sam I said congratulations –

LASSITER: Ma'am.

GUS: on his baseball scholarship! Remember the time he caught a fly ball when he was only two? Was that foreshadowing or what?

(When LASSITER still can't get the "lady" to stop talking, he puts the phone down, picks up his Glock and fires five shots into the target)

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(GUS jumps in surprise at the sudden burst of sound)

GUS: What the hell?

Cut To: LASSITER

(LASSITER puts down the gun and picks up the phone. All is quiet on the other end.)

LASSITER: Ma'am, listen to me. I don't know who you are, but you've dialed the wrong number. My name is Carlton Lassiter, and I'm Head Detective at the Santa Barbara Police Department. And, believe it or not, I'm currently in a pretty foul mood which is why I'm down at the shooting range. So, I'm gonna offer you some advice. I suggest you hang up before I fire off more shots and permanently damage your hearing. Got it?

(CLICK on the line as GUS quickly hangs up)

LASSITER: Good.

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

(GUS looks physically shaken)

GUS: T-time.

SHAWN: 57 seconds. Respectable, but then again, you're dealing with a pro who will inevitably crush your time into dust.

GUS: Shawn, I don't think you should call Lassie. He's in a really bad mood.

SHAWN: Gus, it's _Lassie_. He's trapped in a perpetual vortex of bad moods. It's nothing that I can't handle.

GUS: No. Seriously.

SHAWN: Seriously, Gus, I got this.

(SHAWN reaches into The Writer's Toolbox and pulls out a popsicle stick that says…)

SHAWN (cont'd): _"The time Leslie called me a leech."_ Cake.

GUS: What? That's easy for you?

SHAWN: Oh, no, see what I meant was that when I kick your ass and win this round, I want pineapple upside-down cake.

(GUS means to say something but thinks better of it)

GUS: Whatever. Just do your thing and make Lassiter mad so that Chief Vick won't give us cases anymore.

SHAWN: Dude, why are you always on that?

GUS: I don't know. Maybe it's because I enjoy having a source of income. Or maybe it's because I've never been fired from a job before, and I'd rather have an unmarred record. Or maybe, just _maybe_, it's because Lassiter is a nice guy who I respect, and it'd be decent of you to cut the man a break every now and then.

(SHAWN contemplates this for a moment)

SHAWN: No, it can't be that last one.

(GUS scoffs)

GUS: You're unbelievable.

SHAWN: Oh, Gus, calm down. I told you, I got this. Would you trust me? We've been friends since, like, pre-birth. That has to count for something. Just trust me.

(Beat)

GUS: Alright, fine. Make the call.

(SHAWN smiles)

SHAWN: Thanks, buddy.

(SHAWN dials while GUS times the call)

INT. SBPD. Lassiter's Empty Desk. Day.

(The phone on Lassiter's desk rings several times before the machine picks up)

MACHINE: You've reached Head Detective Carlton Lassiter. I'm not here right now because I'm out solving crime. Leave a message.

(BEEP)

SHAWN: Hey, Lassie! It's Sh- … Well, I was just calling to say how much I missed you… Whoa, hey, calm down there, Lassie-Pants. I heard you were in a bit of a bad mood, and I thought you could use the help of your favorite psychic!... No, I haven't solved the Jack the Ripper murders. I'm gonna leave that one up to you, buddy… Whoa, whoa, hey, take it easy. Pop a chill pill. I actually called to apologize… Yes, _apologize_, Lassie. I know that's a foreign concept to you… I'm sorry, that was insensitive. (Beat) Look, I guess what I'm saying is that I'm trying to be a better man, so I just wanted to apologize for all the crap I've put you through these last few years… Why, you ask, am I suddenly turning my life around? Well, Lassie, I am _so_ glad you asked that question. I guess my epiphany came about the time Leslie called me a leech. It hurt, man. It hurt bad. And I realized how you must feel, what with all the torment I've put you through. So, I'm taking the first steps to becoming a better man… Well, thank you, Carlton. You're okay too. You have a good day now. Drive fast and take risks… I'm just kidding. Be safe…. Goodbye, Carlton.

(CLICK on the line as SHAWN hangs up)

(BEEP indicates the message has been saved)

Cut To: SHAWN and GUS

SHAWN: Time.

GUS: 1 minute, 50 seconds.

SHAWN: Ha! See, Gus, I _told _you I know how to handle Lassie.

GUS: Wow, Shawn. I'm very impressed. Good for you for wanting to be a better man.

SHAWN: Why, thank you.

GUS: And you know what? I would be honored to cook you a pineapple upside-down cake. I'm happy you're going to turn your life around.

SHAWN: That means a lot, Gus.

GUS: Anytime, Shawn.

(GUS remains oblivious to the major con SHAWN pulled him as he takes _1001 Ways To Cook A Pineapple_ into the kitchen and begins to cook)

(SHAWN stifles his snickering as he makes an invisible tally-mark in the air)

**So, there you have it! Another chapter down. I hope you guys liked it. I enjoyed writing Shawn cheating! It seemed a very Shawn thing to do. Anyway, please leave a review and let me know what you thought.**

**And I did mention this in the chapter previous to this, but I thought I'd say it again. For a few years now, the creators of Psych have been in talks to do a musical episode. It was originally scheduled to happen this year (season 5), however, since Steve Franks wants to write all original songs for the episode, he ran out of time to do so. So the episode has been officially scheduled for next year (season 6). But, since we all know that plans fall though (ex. Psych was supposed to start of this season with a 3D episode, but the plans fell through), I created a Facebook group called "We Want A Psych Musical Episode!" to raise support and show the creators that there is a fan base out here who would love to see the episode come to fruition. I would be extremely appreciative of anyone who would take the time to join. Please! It's for a great cause!**

**Anyway, please drop a review on your way out. I love hearing from you guys! You guys are really the best!**


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